


Silverlight

by Mazarin221b



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, First Time, Fluff, Insecure Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Mild Angst, Post Grand Prix, Schmoop, Sightseeing, Speedboats, Vacation, Victor does love some Eros, Victor is Extra about everything, post episode 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-07 23:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11069187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: After the Grand Prix Finals, Victor takes Yuuri on a vacation to Greece. They need quiet, and privacy, to figure out what happens next.Yuuri’s eyes widen and his breathing picks up. He smells like sleep and warm cotton and old champagne, and Victor just breathes in for a moment. “I’m offering you the opportunity to go to Greece, with me, for a week. To walk on the beach, swim in the ocean, drink wine and sleep in every day, if you wish. We’ll do everything and nothing. We’ll see the Acropolis. We’ll rent a boat. We’ll do anything you want,”— and here Victor dropped his voice to a purr —“but I’m tired of sharing you, Yuuri Katsuki.  I want you to myself for a while.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I committed the Unforgiveable Sins and posted this both as a WIP AND without beta. I don't have a regular beta in YOI fandom so tell you what, kids, if you think you're the one for me let's have a chat. If you've got something you feel you MUST tell me, like there's a massive typo I missed or that I've got something backward, or whatever, message me on tumblr or twitter and I'll be happy to talk. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Victor leans on his hand and admires the way candlelight plays across Yuuri’s hair, picking out almost amber highlights in the deep, rich ebony. He’s animatedly talking to Pichit about … God knows what, really, because Victor had tuned out the conversation a few moments prior as he stared, mesmerized.

A cough distracts him from his study and when he glances across the banquet table Chris is looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Whipped,” he mouths.

“Yes,” Victor replies easily, and he desperately wills himself to not get hard as Yuuri absent-mindedly rubs a thumb up the stem of his champagne flute, completely unaware of how devastating he looks in his new suit. The black is so rich it almost absorbs light and highlights Yuuri’s perfect skin. Victor always found him beautiful, but now, with the confidence of a second place finish hanging around his neck he was like a supernova, glowing and utterly captivating.

Victor can’t look away.  He can barely keep his hand chastely on the back of Yuuri’s chair, and when his fingers brush Yuuri’s shoulder, he glances back with a question in his eyes.

Victor shakes his head. “Sorry, it was nothing. Go back to your conversation.”

 He has a plan, though, to remedy that forced distance, and that plan requires a better location and privacy, and neither of those things are available here, even in their shared hotel room.

One more night. He can make it one more night.

Then Yuuri fishes the raspberry out of the bottom of his champagne flute and eats it, sucking juice from his fingers, and Victor whimpers and sits back hard in his chair.

Chris, the bastard, just laughs.

………………………………………………..

“You’re taking me to Greece? Are you serious?” Yuuri is sitting cross legged on his bed, adorably rumpled and mussed, obviously trying to process the surprise Victor just dropped in his lap first thing in the morning. “Why?”

Victor bites his lip. “Why not? You deserve a vacation. I deserve a vacation. I thought it would be a suitable reward for your success this season.”

Yuuri’s lips twist in frustration. “Still not a gold, though,” he mumbles.

Ah, so that’s it. He doesn’t feel he deserves it, not for silver. Victor stalks over and tilts forward until Yuuri has to lie back on the bed and Victor can perch on his hands, his body arched over him. Yuuri’s eyes widen and his breathing picks up. He smells like sleep and warm cotton and old champagne, and Victor just breathes in for a moment. “I’m offering you the opportunity to go to Greece, with me, for a week. To walk on the beach, swim in the ocean, drink wine and sleep in every day, if you wish. We’ll do everything and nothing. We’ll see the Acropolis. We’ll rent a boat. We’ll do anything you want,”— and here Victor dropped his voice to a purr —“but I’m tired of sharing you, Yuuri Katsuki.  I want you to myself for a while.”

Yuuri sucks in a breath. “Okay,” he says, and his voice is a bit shaky. “Okay, Victor. I … would like that, too.”

“Good!” Victor says brightly. “Then get packed. Our flight leaves in about three hours.”

Yuuri groans and jumps up from the bed and races to the bathroom to start the shower. “Thanks for the warning, I don’t even have a swimsuit!” he yells.

Victor grins. “No worries! I’ll take care of it!”

Because if this goes well, he might not even need one.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Before they can leave, however, they’re pounced on by the skating press and the paparazzi as soon as they reach the lobby.

“So, tell us, Yuuri, about those rings you and your coach are wearing. We’ve heard they’re engagement rings. Care to comment?”

Victor watches Yuuri try to swallow down panic but not quite managing it. “No, no, no!” he squeaks. “They’re good luck charms, a thank you to Victor for everything he’s done! I, uh—“

“Of course they’re engagement rings,” Victor cuts in smoothly.

“No one said anything about marriage,” Yuuri protests, flushing. “The word marriage was never said.”

Victor leans in close, his lips barely brushing Yuuri’s ear. “Then I’ll have to remedy that.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen in shock. There’s a buzz amongst the reporters and overlapping shouted questions, but Victor tunes them all out, smiles, and takes Yuuri’s hand to lead him out to catch a cab to the airport.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Yuuri’s quiet the entire ride, but he smiles whenever Victor catches his eye. It’s not that Victor is worried, exactly, but he knows Yuuri is trying to sort through what Victor said before he decides to talk about it. He does that, spends ages worrying and fretting over things that are bothering him before he decides he’s ready to dive into conversation.

Victor can only imagine how long he’d been thinking about breaking things off before their disastrous argument in the hotel the night before last.

 Fortunately their flight is on time and first class is fairly empty, leaving Victor the opportunity to study him once they’re in the air and have drinks in their hands.

He traces his fingers over Yuuri’s free hand where it rests on the tray next to his drink, testing the shape of his knuckles, teasing the tiny hairs on the backs of his fingers, feeling electricity in the twitch and jump of Yuuri’s hand under his own.  The tension in that hand is palpable, the heat between them flaring in waves.

“I adore you,” Victor finally whispers lowly, heart stuttering in his chest. “I want to stay with you as your coach, as your friend, as your … as your lover. I can feel it whenever we touch, Yuuri. When we skated, in the exhibition. And then afterward, I couldn’t stop touching you. Last night in the hotel was torture.”

Yuuri gulps a breath and turns toward Victor until his lips are almost brushing Victor’s cheek.  His eyes are shining, a pretty blush staining the tops of his cheekbones, and Victor is entranced all over again. “I hope — I hope I will be exciting enough,” he says. “I don’t want to disappoint you twice in two days.”

Victor snorts, clasps Yuuri’s hand in his. “Yuuri. You could never disappoint me, do you see that? I am constantly amazed by you.” Victor suddenly has a harrowing thought and his tongue almost freezes in his mouth, thick and heavy as he starts to trip over his words. “Please don’t feel…obligated, or that you must…I simply…Damn.” Victor watches Yuuri’s confused expression, tinged with a tiny bit of amusement.  Victor takes a deep breath and lifts Yuuri’s hand to kiss his knuckles. “What do _you_ want?”

Yuuri blinks and looks down where Victor’s hand is entwined with his, the ring on Yuuri’s right hand glinting in the low light of the cabin. He lifts his eyes to Victor’s and the heat, the desire, the affection takes Victor’s breath away.

“You, Victor. All my life, I’ve only wanted you.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The sun is shining when they step out of the airport in Athens, and the December air is still soft enough Victor unbuttons his jacket. Yuuri has wrestled his luggage free from Victor’s pile of suitcases and pulls a balled up long-sleeve warmup jacket from the front pocket. He pulls off his heavier coat, giving Victor a tantalizing glimpse of the cut of his abs before sliding on his jacket. It’s oddly non-descript, a simple black, unlike his team Japan jacket he usually wears.

“I didn’t really want to be noticed here,” Yuuri says, catching him staring. “I’m on holiday, and you’re noticeable enough for both of us.”

Victor runs a hand through his hair. True, he is fairly obvious in this land of olive-skinned, dark haired beauties, but perhaps… “Should I dye it? Oh, I know, I’ll make it black, so it matches yours!”

Yuuri looks up from his phone, horrified. “What? Oh dear god please no, don’t change it! I love your hair, I—

Victor grins. “What was that?”

“Oh god. I, uh. I really like your hair,” Yuuri mumbles.

Oh yes. This is what he loves, catching Yuuri in an unplanned, unexpected reveal. He sashays closer, until his shoes are just edging in between Yuuri’s feet.

“Perhaps you could show me later how much you like it, eh, _солнышко_?” Yuuri bites his lip but surprisingly doesn’t shy away from the endearment, simply looks at Victor from under his lashes and smirks, the flash of his amusement like quicksilver.  

“Maybe I will,” he says, and just as Victor catches his breath the cab pulls up and Yuuri smiles and darts away to open the door. “Come on,” he calls, sliding into the back. “Or would you rather just stay here?”

Victor looks at the bright blue Grecian sky peppered with tiny wisps of bright clouds, at the throngs of people greeting, kissing, wrangling children. He takes a deep breath of salt-tinged air and smiles at the gorgeous man waiting for him in a cab. Life, and love.

He’s ready.

They crawl through the streets of Athens, traffic a nightmare of rush hour blaring horns and yelling residents. Victor can barely keep still, leg bouncing in nervous anticipation until Yuuri lays a hand softly on his thigh to still him. Victor almost jumps at the touch, heat seeping through his trousers until his skin is warm and tingling. He catches Yuuri’s gaze; excited, happy, a bit nervous, but that small moment of connection calms him until they reach the outskirts of Pireas, a coastal town now engulfed by Athens’ urban sprawl. The car turns along a curved highway and follows a small hill absolutely crammed with balconied hotels until the immaculate white sprawl of Theoxenia Palace with its fountains and lush landscaping opens before them. Yuuri just gapes.

“Where…where did you book us?” he asks, voice timid.

Victor grins at the shock on his face. Precisely what he anticipated. “Only the best for my Yuuri,” he chirps, and leans over to pop the door open. “Quiet, and nothing but luxury. I can’t wait to see you on the balcony in the moonlight, котенок,” he says, and Yuuri’s blush travels prettily down his neck. Victor likes that, likes giving Yuuri adorable pet names that make him flush. But it doesn’t fall from the tongue like he wants it to, something fitting and only his, something made for him. He’s beautiful, his Yuuri, his hair dark as ebony shadow and his smile burns like flame; his confidence a crack of electricity, unexpected and sharp. His moods are a silver pool, reflective and bright. Victor breathes him in as he passes by, a hint of his stupidly expensive shampoo, his one indulgence, filling Victor’s nose.

 Anticipation of finally touching Yuuri, of kissing him breathless, has Victor light-headed. He practically skips to the desk to check in, and when they finally reach the elevator Victor itches to wrap a hand around Yuuri’s waist, to lean in and nuzzle his neck. But Yuuri keeps glancing nervously down at the floor every time Victor catches his eye, and he remembers.

“ _That’s right, you’ve never had any lovers”_ echoes in his brain.

No matter. He’ll show Yuuri how much he loves him now, how much he needs him, in whatever way Yuuri will allow.  Desire and need aren’t foreign to him, Victor knows that first hand. Eros keeps Victor up nights, a dark shadow flitting on the edges of his mind’s eye as he quietly takes himself in hand. Yuuri wants him, he’s _sure_ of it. 

That is, until they reach their suite, a gorgeous open room flooded with the glow of sunset from two sets of French doors.  Yuuri grins and goes to investigate, dragging his suitcase behind him. Victor pushes open the gauzy white curtains to open the French doors to the balcony, and as he turns around Yuuri  has found his way to the bedroom. Victor eagerly goes to join him, ready to tuck his head over Yuuri’s shoulder and tease him pink and stuttering, but when he reaches the door he realizes that Yuuri hasn’t moved.  He’s staring at the single, king-sized bed dominating the center of the bedroom, the _only_ bed, intent ringing clear and true in the silence. Yuuri’s suitcase slowly tips over flat onto the floor.

Hell.

“Yuuri, look at me, please,” Victor pleads and grasps Yuuri’s hands. “I’m sorry I presumed—if this isn’t what you want—I thought on the plane we were—“

“It’s a bit too much of what I want, actually,” Yuuri says with a shaky laugh, and disengages to pick up his suitcase.

Oh thank God. Victor can breathe again.

“I just…it feels like a dream,” Yuuri continues quietly. “Everything I’ve ever wanted, what I hoped for but never expected. It’s just so real, now. I’m not used to it, is all.”

Victor carefully takes the suitcase and slips it onto a bench. Yuuri is trembling, a full-body shudder that shakes against Victor’s palm as he leads him to sit on the edge of the bed. “You seem to think I don’t have the same dreams,” Victor ventures, his words a careful measure. “Did you think I wasn’t serious? Did you think I was teasing you?”

“You have to admit it seems more plausible,” Yuuri says, picking at his cuticles. Victor flicks his fingers away and tries, and fails miserably, to not roll his eyes.

“Yet here we are.  Alone, in a hotel far away from the media, with nothing planned for six days except what we want to plan. Nothing to focus on but each other. And I haven’t even kissed you yet. May I?”

“Yes,” Yuuri breathes. “But I should probably—“

Victor doesn’t even wait, can’t wait, not now when Yuuri is here with him in the now-cerulean glow of a soft, still evening. He cradles the back of Yuuri’s head and pulls him in until he can feel Yuuri’s breath on his lips. “My Yuuri,” Victor says, and kisses him sure and deep, the world tilting on its axis and leaving him with one clear direction: to be near this man, his one true compass pointing North.  Victor’s only mission now is to make him happy, and he plans to spend the rest of forever doing just that.

…………………………………………………………………

The room is almost full dark when Victor finally slips a button free on Yuuri’s shirt.

They’ve been kissing for what feels like ages, lying side by side on their ridiculously huge bed and trading soft touches. Victor isn’t sure how far they’ll go tonight, Yuuri’s eyes liquid and warm in the flicker of streetlight spilling across the bed. Victor’s chest feels tight, Yuuri’s taste overwhelming his senses and leaving him flushed and ready. He wants this to be as good for Yuuri as it is for him, to be equal and reciprocal pleasure for them both. Yuuri studies Victor’s hand where it flicks open another button.

“You too,” he says, and tugs gently on Victor’s collar.

Victor wastes no time pulling the shirt over his head and settles back down on one elbow, warm under Yuuri’s assessing, ravenous gaze.

“I’m having a bit of a hard time here,” Yuuri says, and Victor can’t help but snicker. “Oh my God. No, not that. I mean, ugh!”  Victor cackles. “No, I mean, you’re so beautiful. You’re Victor Nikiforov. I can’t believe you want to touch me like this.”

Victor sobers, catches Yuuri’s hand and brings it to his lips to press a kiss over his ring. “I’ll keep telling you until you believe me. I’m just a man.” He takes a deep breath. “I want you. Touch me, Yuuri. Any way you like.”

Yuuri bites his lower lip and carefully reaches out to place a hand on Victor’s hip. It stills for a moment before he drags it gently up and over Victor’s elbow and bicep. His touch is soft, exploratory, his caress of Victor’s neck gentle and loving. He smiles as he dips his fingers into the tiny hollow of Victor’s throat, which makes Victor shiver. Yuuri glances up at him for a moment before he quickly dips his head down to kiss him there, tongue darting out to taste the skin between Victor’s collarbones. He can’t help it, he sucks in an audible breath at Yuuri’s delicate touch.

“Good?” Yuuri asks, and does it again.

“Perfect.”

Yuuri traces a pattern on Victor’s chest as he tilts his head to kiss lightly up Victor’s neck and under his ear.  It’s maddening, erotic, and Victor can hear his own harsh breaths as Yurri carefully licks and sucks the skin where neck meets shoulder.

“That neck of yours,” Yuuri says, voice muffled against Victor’s skin. “Wanted to do that forever.”

“Mmmm. Anything else you’ve thought about?” Victor stretches so Yuuri can reach the underside of his chin, and he peppers tiny kisses across his adams apple.

Yuuri mumbles something against his skin that Victor doesn’t quite catch. “Oh, come now, my star, it can’t be that bad. We tell each other everything.”

“I want to taste you,” Yuuri says, hurried,  all the words tripping over each other in his rush. His ears go a rather alarming shade of red, and all Victor can see is the top of his head where he’s buried his face in Victor’s neck. 

Victor feels a shiver slide down his spine. “That could be arranged,” he chokes out.

‘’Could it?” Yuuri says, and he pulls back to quirk a shy smile. “Because I want to. I want to make you feel good. I want to make you feel _amazing_.” His voice gets stronger as he continues. “I want you come so hard you pass out, and then wake up and let me do it again. I want you to need me like I need you.”

Victor almost passes out right then and there. He’s never had that sort of fierce determination aimed directly at him before, no one he’s been with ever wanted to care for him in that way, to focus on his pleasure, instead of the simple fact they’d bagged someone famous.  Victor’s throat closes up and he realizes he’s about to get ridiculously emotional so he kisses him, hard, and pushes him over onto his back.  Yuuri’s eyes go wide in surprise.

“We will be so good to each other,” Victor says, and strips the rest of his clothes off. He lifts an eyebrow with a hand on Yuuri’s pants button and when Yuuri nods, he quickly pops the button and slips them down Yuuri’s long, long legs.  Yuuri fights to finish taking off his shirt, they both fumble with socks and Yuuri’s underwear until they’re both sitting on the bed staring at each other, completely nude.

They reach for each other at the same time, their kisses skimming, slipping over lips and cheeks and chin as Victor pulls them backward until Yuuri straddles his lap, fitting their hips together until their erections are pressed between their stomachs. Yuuri groans at the contact, drops his head back and bares his throat. Victor will remember this for the rest of his life, the arch of Yuuri’s back, his taut stomach and the feel of his hips under Victor’s hands.  Streetlights reflect in the hollows and planes of his chest and Victor takes them both in hand to stroke and press the silky skin of Yuuri’s cock to his own.

“V-v-victor,” Yuuri chokes out. “Oh my God. I’m going to… don’t stop, _please_ —,”  Victor strokes him through it, watches Yuuri’s face telegraph his pleasure, his orgasm washing over him like a shuddering wave. Come stripes Victor’s fist and stomach, hot splashes that light every nerve where they fall. He groans and gathers up some to stroke himself, fast and hard, Yuuri’s wide, pleasure-drunk eyes the only thing he can focus on until he, too, comes across his stomach with a groan.

Yuuri collapses against him, then, apparently utterly unconcerned about the mess between them. Victor’s cock still pulses with aftershocks, and Yuuri twitches every few seconds, but both of them are reluctant to move.  Victor just wraps his arms around Yuuri’s back and holds him close, and feels hot tears where they slide against his neck.

“I’m here, my _солнышко_ ,” he says into Yuuri’s hair, and the endearment still feels strange on his tongue, not quite fitting but the best he can find in the haze. “I’m your Victor, and I’m here.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think the Greek gods were more like people – greedy, avaricious, lustful. Warlike. Powerful and ruling by fear. I don’t blame people for staying in line.”
> 
> “I’d rather be ruled by love than fear,” Yuuri says, quietly, and Victor’s heart starts hammering in his chest. He lifts Yuuri’s hand, the one that wears his ring, to his lips and presses a kiss to it.
> 
> “As would I, my солнышко.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who has a beta! Lit--YOI was so freaking amazing and *offered to beta for me* (WHAT A SUCKER! Just kidding!) and I'm just so incredibly grateful. THANK YOU!

Victor blinks awake in the full light of a December morning, the sun streaming through the open curtains they’d forgotten to close last night. He stretches luxuriantly and turns his head to see that he’s slept until almost ten—unheard of, these days, but certainly expected now that the stress of the final has finally ebbed and things between Yuuri and himself are somewhat clearer.

Yuuri. He was certainly a surprise and a delight last night, shy and timid until passion overtook him and he was able to lose himself, to let go of his inhibitions.  A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he rolls over to fully appreciate the wisps of black hair falling over Yuuri’s forehead and tangling with his eyelashes. He could use a haircut, but Victor loves combing and smoothing the silky strands back from his forehead as he gets ready to skate, his entire demeanor changing as he becomes who he is on the ice.

Yuuri stirs slightly and shifts over onto his back. The sheet covering his body slips down a little and Victor admires the curve of his bicep, the long, delicate fingers that are splayed against his stomach.  If he doesn’t move, Victor wonders, if he stays still and just watches daylight slip across Yuuri’s skin, will this moment never end?

It seems not, as Yuuri inhales sharply and his eyes flutter open. He blinks a few times, and then turns his head sharply on the pillow to meet Victor’s gaze, looking ever so slightly startled. Victor grins, he can’t help it. God, he’s just so incredibly beautiful.

“Good morning!” Victor says brightly, and before Yuuri can say anything, Victor leans in and kisses him soundly on the mouth. 

“Gah, morning breath!” Yuuri gasps, and slaps a hand over Victor’s mouth and giggles.

Victor  doesn’t care, honestly, whether he has morning breath or Yuuri does or if that suspicious white flaky spot on Yuuri’s chest is come or drool. He just wants another one of those enticing laughs, the ones that telegraph Yuuri’s ease and comfort with this new situation they find themselves in. So he dives in and nuzzles Yuuri’s neck and sucks a smacking wet kiss there.

“Oh my God, Victor, stop making me laugh! I’m barely awake as it is!”

Victor pulls back and leans on one elbow. Every day, please.  Grant him every morning just like this. “Awake enough,” he says, and then reaches out to cup Yuuri’s face in his hand. “How are you feeling?”

Yuuri smiles and turns to kiss Victor’s palm, a sweet press of lips. “You’re still here. I feel amazing, actually.” Yuuri pauses and Victor watches as his gaze travels up Victor’s body. “Maybe a little hungry,” he adds.

Victor catches on immediately. “Mmm. Me too,” he says, and scoots closer until he’s pressed all along Yuuri’s front, and yes, there it is, a pulsing hot erection digging into his hip. Surprisingly, Yuuri slips back just a little bit, breaking the touch.

“Sorry,” he says, blushing.

Victor grabs Yuuri’s hip to still him, to keep him grounded in his touch. “No, do not apologize. No need to be shy with your body. Not with me.” Victor drops his voice and purrs, “Feeling your cock hard and ready for me is so hot, my ангел. My angel.” Victor considers the image, though no angel in his experience ever had such devilish dark eyes. “I never want you to feel ashamed about what you feel. And what you want.”  Or who you want, he adds silently.

 Yuuri swallows heavily but stays quiet for a moment. He then looks up at Victor with a small smile. “Shall we shower, then?” he asks. “I’m a bit of a mess.”

 Victor can feel his heart doing a victory dance.

 “After you,” he says, and gestures toward the bathroom.

 Yuuri slides from the bed with a bit of a sneaky look back to see if Victor is watching him. He is, of course, watching the muscles of his back shift as he moves, and happy to get a good look at that amazing ass of his. God it’s perfect, a bare hint of a bubble butt overlying voluptuous muscle, a clean curve of bare skin and Victor wants a bite. And, as he looks more closely, he realizes that skin is suspiciously clean, indeed. 

Because Yuuri waxes. 

_Extensively._

“Oh my God,” Victor says. “You didn’t do that before, when we were in Hasetsu!” 

“What?” Yuuri says, whipping around and trying to cover himself a bit with his hands. “What didn’t I do before?” 

Victor scrambles out of bed and practically trips over the sheets until he gets his hands on Yuuri’s bare ass . “You wax,” he says, and runs a hand down one smooth thigh. “You didn’t before, the last time I saw you naked, at the onsen. Do you do it _everywhere_? How did I not notice this last night?” Victor manhandles Yuuri around until he faces forward and Victor takes a good look at his now somewhat-not-as-erect cock. It’s half-mast, nestled in a small thatch of neatly trimmed black hair but otherwise he’s bare from chest to feet. Victor blows out a whistle. _Nice._

 _“Victor Nikiforov!”_ he hears, and he gets the idea Yuuri might have been trying to catch his attention for a while. “Stop pawing at me!”

“Sorry, sorry, I just. It’s so _sexy_ , Yuuri. Why did you do this? Did you—“ _Did you do it for me?_

“I always wax for competition season. I don’t like hair getting caught in the fabric of my costumes. It’s distracting.” 

Victor pouts, and Yuuri just laughs. “Sorry, Victor. I didn’t do it for you. But,” he adds, slyly. “I could keep doing it for you if you—”

Victor’s heard enough. He ducks down and lifts a protesting Yuuri over his shoulder and carries him into the bathroom. He dumps him next to the tub and turns on the shower, pulls them both in and closes the curtain. Yuuri is flushed, red faced and laughing, and Victor presses him against the black marble walls, eliciting a yelp.

“Cold! Ohhhhhh…” Yuuri trails off when Victor drops to his knees and nuzzles his stomach, nipping the tiny fold of skin above his belly button. Yuuri’s hands twine into Victor’s hair, his fingers gentle against Victor’s scalp and Victor sighs, almost content just to be right where he is, nestled into the heat of Yuuri’s hip, warm water sluicing down his back. But he can’t ignore the evidence of Yuuri’s desire right in front of him, so he grips Yuuri’s hips and drags his lips right up the shaft of Yuuri’s cock.

Yuuri gasps above him and almost buckles, but Victor just presses him harder against the wall to hold him there. He looks up, water streaming into his eyes, but he catches Yuuri’s gaze just as he leans forward and takes the head of Yuuri’s cock on his tongue. He leaves his mouth open, just holds it there, and lets Yuuri get a good, long look before he takes as much as he can into his mouth, the glans rubbing up against his palate and shaft stretching his lips.

It’s been ages since he’s done this, really, and the way Yuuri moans and twitches above him, clearly wanting to thrust but not letting himself, is much hotter than the last drunk blow he gave a guy he met at a club almost two years ago. He’d given up sex after that, found it almost tedious and depressing, until Yuuri smashed his way into Victor’s life high on sixteen glasses of liquid courage and demanded all of Victor’s attention from that point forward. 

He finds a good rhythm with his mouth and hand, Yuuri still tangled in his hair and trying to keep his balance as the sensation starts to overwhelm him. Victor unwraps one hand from around Yuuri’s hip and reaches down to stroke himself, the relief of even his own hand enough to drag a choked sound from him, muffled by Yuuri pushing into his mouth.

“I’m, I, ah, Vitya, please you don’t need to—“ Yuuri says, and at the endearment Victor feels himself hit the peak with a crystalline shiver, still holding Yuuri in his mouth and groaning as he can feel the first shot of Yuuri’s release across his tongue. Victor pulls off when he’s done and sucks in heavy breaths, almost winded, and looks up to see Yuuri’s stunned expression.

“Breakfast?” he asks, because he can’t resist.

“Oh my God,” Yuuri replies, and hauls him up by his armpits to crush himself to Victor’s chest. “I’ve never had that. Never had someone do that before.” He kisses Victor then, heedless of his own taste on Victor’s tongue, and the feel of his elegant hands flat against Victor’s back is the most amazing and perfect thing he’s ever experienced.

They stay like that until they both almost faint from the heat, and then Yuuri gently washes Victor’s hair, they clean up, wrap themselves in robes and collapse on the bed. 

They skip breakfast in favor of a late lunch.

A very late lunch.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Victor’s endorphin high still has him grinning from ear to ear as they step out of the hotel and find the car Victor rented waiting for them. The sleek silver Aston Martin is perfect, tiny and convertible and ready to whip their hair into a frenzy as they make their way into Athens proper. He can’t wait.

Yuuri slides his hand along the glistening paint and raises his eyebrows. “Flashy. Just like you. I love it.” He leans forward and kisses Victor on the cheek and slides into the passenger seat, expectant. Victor practically vaults over the hood to get to the driver’s seat and peel out onto the streets, only a vague idea of where he’s going but generally good at getting there on instinct. A couple edges away from the curb as they pass.

“Um, aren’t you going a bit, um, fast?” Yuuri shouts, and the wind has his hair already in a glorious mess. The sun is shining and glimmers highlights across Yuuri’s hair and reflects from his sunglasses. Victor feels lighter than he has in months, his new awareness and knowledge of Yuuri’s devotion buzzing in his chest. They’ve still not said the words, sure, but Victor knows that the love burning in his heart has to be obvious by now.  He just needs the right moment to eventually cement their partnership into something more permanent. His ring winks at him in the sunlight, a constant reminder.

“Where are we going?” Yuuri asks. “Are we going to see the Acropolis?”

“We are now,” Victor replies, and hits the gas harder, catching Yuuri’s laugh as it spirals up into the late afternoon sky.

 ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The Parthenon at the Acropolis is huge, and magnificent, and Victor can’t stop taking pictures of Yuuri leaning against one of the broken pillars with the magnetic blue of the Mediterranean in the distance.

“Give me your hand,” Victor says as Yuuri steps over a block. “I want to get one picture of the building, don’t fall and break your ankle.”

“Should have thought of that before you made us run all the way up here,” Yuuri grouses. He still hates running, but they do need to keep themselves fit. Victor ignores him and takes a few more pictures, and they wander as close as they’re able, and imagine the long-gone great statue of Athena, golden and imposing, towering over them.

“You think people ever really thought Athena was truly protecting them? I mean, they did go to war all the time. Seems a bit backhanded of a protection racket, to me, instead of a caring grace.”  Yuuri tilts his head and studies, and Victor takes a moment to arrange an answer in his head.

“I think the Greek gods were more like people – greedy, avaricious, lustful. Warlike. Powerful and ruling by fear. I don’t blame people for staying in line.”

“I’d rather be ruled by love than fear,” Yuuri says, quietly, and Victor’s heart starts hammering in his chest. He lifts Yuuri’s hand, the one that wears his ring, to his lips and presses a kiss to it.

“As would I, my солнышко.”

 

……………………………………………………………….

Dinner is a quiet affair, Victor’s arousal buzzing low and warm in his belly every time Yuuri smiles. They left the Acropolis and drove around to poke at some interesting markets, Yuuri coming away with a beautiful, tiny bronze lamp that Victor can’t wait to light in their room later, and Victor accumulating a butter-soft white linen shirt. He tries to buy Yuuri one too, but he won’t hear of it.

“No, you’re still paying for this vacation. I don’t need anything else. I have prize money coming, and I’ll buy something more then,” he had said, and pressed the pout from Victor’s mouth with his thumb.  Which reminds him—

“Yuuri, what did you mean, you will wait for your prize money to buy things? Do you not have the ability now? You had prize money from last year, and I know Celestino isn’t cheap but he’s not that bad.”

Yuuri swallows his wine and shakes his head fondly. “I may never get used to your directness.” He pauses, then adds, “Most of it went to the Inn. It was hard, two years ago, and my parents were fretting. I’ve pretty much always sent at least half of my winnings, if there were any. This time I sent most of them.”

Ah. Yes, that makes sense. A family business, and an outlay like skating? It would have been impossible save for the influence and generosity of his family connections. Now that he thinks about it, a good portion of the lives of almost ten people rely on Yuuri, on his ability to skate to win. Minako and her ballet studio, the Nishigoris and Ice Castle. Mari, who works for her parents still. The rink skate shop, who trades on his image and had a boom in business as soon as Hot Springs on Ice was finished and everyone’s child wanted to learn to skate.

The pressure must be immense.

Victor watches Yuuri take another bite of his pasticchio with a happy sigh, an indulgence of pasta and béchamel that will pad out his hollowed cheeks just a touch and give back the energy they’d burned these last few weeks in the final push toward the Grand Prix. He sacrifices so much, for so many, and yet he had still felt alone until Victor came.

“We should go back to the hotel,” Victor says. Because he needs to show Yuuri what he means, how much he’s adored. How beautiful, how important, how strong he is.

How very, very in love Victor is with him, and always will be.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

They hold hands most of the way back, Victor only letting go to steer around the most difficult corners. He catches glances of Yuuri’s flushed face out of the corner of his eye on occasion, but all he can think of is getting him back to the hotel and stripped down as quickly as possible. 

It’s possible someone was trying to call him, but Victor ignores it, ignores all propriety, even, in the desperate way he pulls Yuuri across the lobby and into the elevator. Yuuri is just as hungry, as fevered, and presses Victor back against the elevator walls to kiss him breathless and wondering. 

They make love in the dark, curtains drawn, the only light the flicker of Yuuri’s tiny oil lamp that plays golden across his skin. Victor worships him with hands and lips, skates kisses down his trembling thighs and presses himself against him in a slow, languorous rhythm that’s punctuated by shivery huffs of breath and small gasps.  When he comes, it’s with Yuuri’s name on his lips and the burn of emotion in his throat.

Yuuri must see it, must hear the unshed tears in his voice, because he brushes a gentle hand across Victor’s eyes and whispers, “I love you, Vitya,” against his lips. Victor kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheeks, his eyes. Swallows down the outpouring of emotion that threatens to drown him. 

“Oh, my Yuuri. My only one. I love you more than you could imagine.”

 ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confidence suits Yuuri, wraps itself around him and makes an already alluring persona absolutely incandescent. This is what Victor sees, what the world is beginning to know, that Yuuri Kastuki is ready to have the universe at his feet, ripe for the taking. He walks the streets of Athens with a head-up, confident, graceful gait, and Victor can see the tilt of a smile lingering at the corner of his mouth.

After falling asleep with Yuuri tucked into his side, Victor is next aware when he wakes in the pitch dark with the smooth, gentle caress of Yuuri’s fingertips trailing down his back. They slide down, down, over the curve of his ass and back up the dip of his spine, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. He stays still, heart pulsing in his throat and desire warming his skin, to see what happens next.

“I know you’re awake,” Yuuri purrs. “You snort when you wake up.”

Victor still doesn’t move. “I do not,” he complains, though he knows he does. Yuuri’s fingers now glide over his shoulderblades, down his arm and the curve of his bicep. “What time is it?”

Yuuri’s hand stills. “Does it matter?”

 _No. Not at all._ “Just curious.”

He hears Yuuri take a deep breath. A pause. “Turn over for me?” is a soft question in the darkness. He does, without any hesitation whatsoever. If Yuuri wants to use the blanketing dark to bolster his courage, Victor isn’t going to say no.

Victor settles against the pillows and Yuuri is a touch clearer in the gloom – the curtains still are letting some light from outside leak in – but all Victor can really make out is the vague outline of Yuuri’s hair and the flash of his eyes. It’s surreal, dreamlike, as Yuuri nudges his way between Victor’s thighs, pressing them apart until he can settle between them, his cheek tucked against the crease of Victor’s groin. The sensation of Yuuri’s breath on his cock is painfully arousing and he squirms a bit, seeking contact.

“Wait,” Yuuri says, and splays a hand against Victor’s hip. “I’ll take care of that in a minute.” His voice is stronger, more confident now, and Victor starts flipping through every boring skating drill in his head to keep from coming right then and there. Yuuri drags his nose up the notch of Victor’s hip, lips down over the crest, takes little kitten licks of the soft skin there. It’s almost ticklish, and Victor twitches under Yuuri’s restraining hand.

“So you do have a few weak spots,” Yuuri says, amused, and Victor cringes a bit. Oh no, that’s going to be trouble later. He’ll have to figure out how to fight back. Yuuri swipes his tongue across the same spot and Victor yelps.

“Unfair,” Victor pouts. “How can you be so cruel?”

Yuuri chuckles. “I’m not. If I were would I do this?” He leans down and Victor almost jumps out of his skin when he feels Yuuri’s lips at the base of his cock.

“N – noooo,” Victor stutters, words starting to fail him as Yuuri’s mouth begins a slow, soft drag up the shaft. Pleasure suffuses his chest, his gut, a symphony of sensation like stars sparkling under his skin. The drag and pull of Yuuri’s mouth on his cock is intoxicating, his arousal ramping up like a supernova, threatening to explode and overwhelm him.

Yuuri hums his own pleasure as he works his mouth over the head of Victor’s cock, one hand creeping up Victor’s chest to brush across his nipple. He sounds lascivious, ravenous, and he’s utterly relentless as he kisses and licks, sucks heady and deep and draws every last bit of Victor’s breath from him with the exquisite torture of it. It’s almost too much, and Victor can feel himself want to thrust, want to fuck, but Yuuri’s hand still holds him down, tries to keep him still. Pleasure coalesces, draws tight under Yuuri’s maddening touch. Victor tries to warn him of the inevitable but the only sound he can make is a high, keening moan as his orgasm overtakes him, skittering along his nerves and leaving him shaking and breathless as Yuuri swallows and swallows around him.

Before Victor can form words Yuuri slithers up Victor’s body until he can get his knees under him, swinging his legs over and straddles Victor’s chest with one hand on his cock and stroking frantically. “This okay?” he says, and he sounds absolutely shattered.

“Yes, yes, anything, please, Yuuri—“ Victor strains, tries to lift his head enough to get his mouth on Yuuri’s cock, but he can’t, he can’t quite reach, and then with a shuddering groan Yuuri comes, painting Victor’s chest and chin and lips with come.

Victor pulls Yuuri down until he can kiss him, Yuuri apparently unfazed by the taste of himself on Victor’s lips. They kiss, and kiss, and kiss until kisses become a soft, sleepy smear of lips and Yuuri falls asleep against Victor’s chest.

Victor finally glances at the clock.

It’s 2:30 AM.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Confidence suits Yuuri, wraps itself around him and makes an already alluring persona absolutely incandescent. This is what Victor sees, what the world is beginning to know, that Yuuri Kastuki is ready to have the universe at his feet, ripe for the taking. He walks the streets of Athens with a head-up, confident, graceful gait, and Victor can see the tilt of a smile lingering at the corner of his mouth. If he stood up in the street and screamed “I just had amazing sex” at the top of his lungs, he couldn’t be more obvious.

It does suit him, though. And as they duck into a small, warm café for an afternoon coffee he catches Yuuri’s eye, the expression part hungry, part soft and wondering.

Victor smiles at him, reassuring. He feels the same, really, that worshipful desire to hold on to something precious that you’ve found, to hoard it away for safekeeping and at the same time proclaim it to the world.

“ _Dýo kafédes, parakaló_ ,” he says, dragging up the tiny bits of Greek he knows, mostly learned for ordering food and impressing a rinkmate once, back in St. Petersburg when he was all of sixteen and the object of his desire was a faraway twenty-four. They settle at their table by the window and watch the winter sky swirl with grey, the temperature already a bit cooler than when they arrived. It may rain soon.

“We should take a drive before the weather changes,” he says. “I’d like to look around the coast, maybe find a boat for tomorrow.”

Yuuri slits his eyes at him. “Do you even know how to sail, or drive, or whatever it is?”

Victor rolls his eyes. “Of course. I grew up on the ocean.”

“So did I, but I don’t pretend to know how to steer a boat.”

“Fine, I’ll get one with a captain, then. ” Victor taps his chin. “That’s too bad. I had plans for you, and everything.”

Yuuri’s eyes brighten. “Yeah, what sorts of—“ he starts, but then they’re interrupted by the arrival of their coffee.

“ _Apolamváno!_ ” he says, and at Yuuri’s baffled look, he adds “Enjoy,” in English. “I take it you’re visitors,” he says.

“Ah, yes,” Yuuri says, and Victor laughs internally at the ridiculousness of conducting a conversation that is in three peoples’ non-native language. “On vacation.”

“Delightful,” he says, looking directly at Victor. “And you are?”

“Victor Nikiforov,” Victor says automatically, his PR training kicking in without conscious thought. “Nice to meet you.”

“Andreas. It’s my pleasure. I hope you find the city to your liking,” he says, and leans down close to swipe at an imaginary smear on the tabletop with his towel. “You should find something to amuse you. _Ómorfoi ántres syníthos kánoun_ ,” he adds, and glances at Victor again from under his lashes.

Victor translates quickly in his head. Beautiful men...something. Do. Maybe. Some nuance is getting lost. But Yuuri is looking speculative and annoyed. He may not understand the words but the waiter’s body language is intent and directed Victor’s way, flirtatiousness clear in the line of his arm as it barely skims the back of Victor’s chair. Yuuri stands up, mumbles “Excuse me,” and walks back toward the restrooms.

“Well, we’re trying to do just that,” Victor says in English, trying to ignore Andreas entirely to watch as Yuuri disappears through the door. “If you’ll excuse us.” He’s struggling, here. He can’t be outright rude, he has to assume at all times someone will know who he is and post a ridiculous story online, or get an unflattering photograph. So he simply smiles and blatantly ignores the card the waiter tucks in his shirt pocket.

“Indeed. _Antío ómorfi_ ,” he says with a wink, and slinks away with an outrageous swing in his hips. Victor blows out a breath. Jesus Christ.

Yuuri reappears a moment later, just as Victor finishes the last dregs of his now-cooled coffee. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and all the light has disappeared from his face. He looks withdrawn and he slumps slightly as he sits down and stares at his cup.

“You should be,” Victor says vehemently, and Yuuri looks up in surprise. “You left me alone with that .. that... _пиявка_.”

“A what?” Yuuri’s forehead crinkles. “Pri-yav-ka? What is that?”

“A, um. A worm, but it’s ah, got a sucker? Attaches and won’t let go?” Why is English deserting him when he most needs it? It’s an odd word, but still.

“A leech?” Yuuri supplies. “I think?”

“Ah, yes. That leech. Is that how you defend your man’s honor? Is that how you would fight for me?” He’s teasing, but yet there’s something deeply disheartening about the fact Yuuri would abandon the field so quickly. Does he feel so threatened, still?

Yuuri’s spine straightens. “Is that something you would want?” he asks, and his voice is deadly serious. Victor can feel there’s a lot more hinging on his answer than he would wish.

“I don’t mean physically fight, though I wouldn’t turn down watching you pummel someone for my favor,” he says, and winks. “But would you not want to lay claim to my attention, for yourself? Would you not want to remind them that I am yours, and you are mine?”

“I would fight for you,” Yuuri says, fiercely, and there, yes, there’s the fire in his eyes, the staunchness that propelled him through Hot Springs on Ice. “But people choose to be together. They want to be together, or they don’t. I will never demand that you stay.” This last part is softer, slightly resigned. “I know you can choose to go. And that’s okay.”

Victor reaches across the table and grasps Yuuri’s right hand, rubs a thumb across the gold resting there.

“And I choose to be with you, красивая.” Victor says, and Yuuri’s answering smile is shy and sweet, and Victor knows, then. Knows his beautiful one needs his reassurance.

It’s time. He just needs to figure out where, and how.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It’s with deep sadness Victor lifts the top on the Aston and locks it in place, the grey skies threatening. Yuuri just laughs at him.

“You look like your mother just took away your favorite toy,” he says, and lifts his phone and grabs a picture. “Poor baby.”

Victor tries to look as pathetic as possible, staring at Yuuri over the now-closed top and giving him his best puppy eyes. Yuuri just rolls his eyes but walks around the back of the car to pin Victor against the door and kiss him on the corner of the mouth.

“Aww, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri whispers, “I’ll try to make it up to you later, okay?”

That’s more like it. Victor palms Yuuri’s ass through his jeans. “I suppose I can live with that,” he sighs.

He just laughs as Yuuri splutters his indignation and stalks back around the car to throw himself in the passenger seat. “You’re going to go down on me twice, Nikiforov, and you’re going to like it,” he calls out, his arms crossed over his chest.

Victor slides into the driver’s seat. “Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he purrs in Yuuri’s ear, and takes a swipe at the curve of it with his tongue. “Going to make you scream when I lick you out.”

“Fuck,” Yuuri swears, and Victor can feel the shudder roll through his body. “Can we just get on with this already? I think you’re going to kill me.”

“But what a beautiful death,” Victor says with a wink, and peels out onto the streets.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

They find a beautiful route east, driving the coastal highway that curves around hills and dips low toward the ocean occasionally, revealing glimmering stretches of a harbor filled with boats of all sorts, from fishing trawlers to multi-million dollar yachts. They pull over and stare a bit, pick out which boats they like best, bicker over colors and style. Yuuri likes the sleek, fast looking smaller yachts, Victor likes the massive one that has a helicopter perched on the back.

“Honestly, for living by the ocean, we weren’t on it much,” Yuuri says, and posts a picture of his favorite on Instagram (“The best yacht. #Nikiforovisalwayswrong”). “I spent more time indoors than I probably should have, between the studio and Ice Castle.”

“I feel like I did the same. Once I started skating, that’s all I did.”

“Well, I did have one telling experience,” Yuuri says, and tells Victor about the harbor at Hasetsu, the one and only time his father took them out on a tiny little boat one summer day when he was all of seven and Mari was nine. They spent more time fighting over who got to sit in the bow than fishing, until he’d planted himself with legs grown strong from a year of constant ice skating and ballet. Mari tried to shove him over, but slipped and fell overboard. They both ended up polishing the furniture at the Inn for the rest of the week, and never went out in a boat again.

Victor can only imagine it, a chubby, round-cheeked little boy bickering with his older, taller sister, expected to yield but instead stubbornly holding onto his space against all comers. He’s not at all surprised.

The wind has picked up, scattering the clouds, and the moon has risen though it’s barely 6pm. The breeze ruffles Yuuri’s hair and sends a glancing hint of his warmth Victor’s way. “Are you ready to head back?” he asks, and Yuuri shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think so. Let’s make it up to that peak, so we can see the islands. I bet we could see the lights from Santorini from here.”

“All right, then, let’s go,” Victor says, and opens the door with a flourish. Perfect, that will be absolutely perfect. _A romantic, moonlit proposal over the sea. Like a movie, or a dream._

Yuuri giggles and executes and exaggerated bow and a highly formal “ _Doumo arigatou gozaimasu_ ” before he sits down with his hands primly in his lap. Victor ducks into the driver’s seat and pulls back onto the highway. Yuuri stares out of the window, seeming to absorb the landscape. It’s quiet and comfortable, the first time in a long time Victor’s not felt the need to clutter the silence with chatter.

The road climbs further, bringing them possibly hundreds of feet above the Mediterranean, a blue-black expanse of water dotted with the lights of passing ships and the more powerful glow of cities on other islands. The lights flicker off of Yuuri’s glasses and illuminate his face, and Victor really needs to find a place to stop and kiss him. He’s looking for a pull off when Yuuri finally speaks.

“So, Nationals,” Yuuri says carefully, and Victor is jolted by the topic. “Will you have a program ready? It’s only a few weeks off.”

Pfft, who cares, when he’s planning the rest of his future, including a naked Yuuri in his bed every night? Except he did sort of say that he was returning, so he’d better at least consider it. “Yes, of course.”

Yuuri flinches as Victor takes a particularly difficult turn at speed. “What are you skating to?”

“No idea.” No, that’s not a good spot, he thinks, as he passes a small copse of trees. Not deep enough off of the road.

“Of course you don’t.” Yuuri sighs. “We really should be getting you ready for Nationals, not spending all this time and money on me. I’m not really worth it.”

Victor yanks the wheel, pulling the car over to the side of the road and hits the brakes hard, dust spitting up from under the tires. Yuuri looks startled. How can he be so shocked, when Victor has done nothing these last days but show him just how very worth it he really is?

“I’d not trade any moment of this week for anything, understand? I’m here with you, and that is the most important thing. The most important. I’d fall ten times right on my ass in front of the entire world if that meant I got to spend an extra hour alone with you.”

Yuuri’s surprise turns to blinked back tears, and Victor’s stomach drops. He could kick himself. God, what an idiot he is. Why can’t he learn to be more careful with Yuuri’s spun-glass heart? He’s ruined today, ruined it completely. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he snarls, and hits the steering wheel.

“I’d be horrified if you did that, Victor,” Yuuri whispers. “I can’t be that, I can’t take that from you—“

Victor reaches across the car and gently takes Yuuri’s face in his hands. “No, please, no, I’m so sorry, Yuuri. I’m sorry. I’m just. I don’t know what I’m saying. Just that I love you. I want to be with you. You’re more important than skating. More important than Nationals.” Victor searches Yuuri’s wide, worried eyes, beseeches him to understand. Begs him to feel it in his heart, to banish the impulse to sacrifice that seems burned into his soul. “Please, Yuuri. Let me decide my own fate. Stop throwing yourself on the altar for me.”

The tears spill over and down Yuuri’s cheeks. “I don’t know how. I’m sorry. I know I can’t keep you, I know I can’t hold you. I just wanted these days, then I would let you go if you wanted.” He reaches forward to tuck himself against Victor’s chest, and as he does his hand presses against the front pocket of Victor’s shirt, and against the card Andreas slipped there.

“What’s this?” Yuuri says, and before Victor can stop it, like watching a slow motion trainwreck, Yuuri pulls the card out and sees “Andreas 339-7308986 XX” on it. He stares at the card and Victor’s heart plummets to his shoes.

“He put that there, I didn’t ask for it. Please, Yuuri, I don’t want him. I didn’t ask—“

“I know,” Yuuri says, and his voice is quiet and resigned. “But I know I’m never going to be enough to hold you forever. I won’t win all of those fights, Victor.”

Victor grabs his wrists, desperate to stop this conversation from spiraling out of control any further. He’s watching his castles in the air fall and shatter one by one, dragging him down into an abyss he can only see one escape from. “My Yuuri, my precious one. My – my skater. My silver medal winning champion. My everything.” He takes a deep breath. “I brought you here to ask you to marry me. I want forever with you. I need you. Please say you will.” He presses kisses to Yuuri’s tear-stained cheeks, to his lips, to his eyes. Holds the hands that have curled into fists until Yuuri pulls back and looks at him with more sorrow in his eyes than Victor’s ever seen before.

“I’m sorry, Victor. But I can’t.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you know when you're writing along and you know when sometimes your brain short-circuits itself and the simple word "Cappucino" suddenly resets your brain to translating everything to Italian instead of Greek? Well thank fuck for betas, because Yoi-Lit totally caught that and JFC I'm glad she did because WHAT. Thank you.
> 
> I translated pretty much everything within the text itself but a couple I didn't:  
> “Doumo arigatou gozaimasu”: Very formal thank you in Japanese.  
> Ómorfoi ántres syníthos kánoun: Beautiful men often do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor picks up his glass and tilts the liquid around.
> 
> _“The word marriage was never said.” “Then I’ll have to remedy that.”_
> 
> Which he did, right? He did. He said that he wanted Yuuri to marry him, that he loves him. He takes another drink, puts his glass on the table where it tips over with a clink, a dribble of vodka pooling across the tabletop. The waitress looks concerned as she mops up and tries to convince him some water might be a better idea.
> 
> _I’m sorry, Victor, but I can’t. I can’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’t—_
> 
>  “What can I do?” He whispers, and can feel the tears welling in his eyes. His beautiful Yuuri, slipping through his fingers like smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Lit-Yoi/Max for awesome beta services! You're the absolute best!

The car is completely silent save for the quiet ticking of the engine cooling. Victor has gone completely cold, overwhelmed by a chilled wave that starts in his chest and works through his body until his chest is so frozen he can hardly breathe. Yuuri looks at him like he’s about to get sick.

Victor wonders, distantly, if that might not be the better option than suffocating under the crushing weight of the words Yuuri just dropped on his heart.

“Why?” he finally chokes out, once the silence is too much to bear.

Yuuri blinks and looks down at his hands, twisted in his lap. “Because I love you,” he says, and Victor opens his mouth but Yuuri holds a hand up to silence him. “And I don’t think you really mean it.”

Victor’s heart flares to life. “Didn’t mean it? How could you think that? I—I planned all of this just for you, to ask you! You gave me my ring, and I knew—“

“You didn’t mean it right then,” Yuuri says, and wipes his eyes. “You were panicking and scared, and that’s not what you wanted to say, I know it wasn’t.”

“I was looking for a spot tonight, I wanted—“

“No, Vitya.” Yuuri looks determined, if sad, and lets out a rueful laugh. “I can’t tell you how much hearing those words means, how I dreamed about—“ Here Yuuri swallows heavily. “But you can’t make promises like that just to keep me from freaking out! I’m a hot mess most of the time, I know that. That’s why I know this can’t last, not forever. Honestly, I don’t even know what forever is going to look like. And you’ll get tired of dealing with my insecurity like this.”

Victor breathes through his nose carefully and closes his eyes. “Yuuri,” he starts, and is pleased his voice is quietly calm, “I’ve been with you for almost eight months. I’ve helped you through it in skating, I can help you through it in this. You have to believe in me. I thought … I thought you trusted me by now. I’m not leaving you. We’re…we’re talking about next season, right, I mean, we’ve discussed Nationals. Five world championships. I’m still here, you know that.”

“I do. I mean, if you go, it’s going to be because of something I’ve done.”

Victor rubs his forehead. Yuuri’s fear is like an ouroboros, a snake continually eating itself alive, destroying and sustaining in turns.  He’s losing the fight, unable to cut it off at the head.

His heart is dying bit by bit, slaughtered by a nameless, dark shadow that he can barely name. He still can’t breathe. He can’t believe this is happening _again_. His heart held out on a string for Yuuri to viciously cut to ribbons.

It makes him unreasonably angry.

“Victor?” Yuuri’s voice is tentative, wavering.

“I can’t do this,” Victor snaps. “I can’t.” He starts the car savagely, throws it in gear and pulls out onto the highway back into Athens. Yuuri is sniffling and trying not to wipe his nose on his sleeve.  Victor can feel his jaw lock with how hard he’s grinding his teeth together.

He’s sure if he opens his mouth to cry, he might never stop.

………………………………………………………………………………

The rain is beating viciously down when they get back to the hotel, and despite the canopy covering the valet area the cold soaks into Victor’s bones, chills his hot cheeks. Yuuri walks ahead of him into the lobby, and pauses by the elevator.

“If you want me to get another room, I will,” he says quietly, and Victor shakes his head, stricken.

“No, please. I’m just—“ he gestures toward the lounge, at the dim lights and promise of temporary oblivion. “I’m going to get a drink, maybe give us some time to think on our own. I’ll be up later. I promise.”

Yuuri nods and steps into the elevator. He glances up just as the doors close, eyes locked on Victor until the last second. It’s all Victor can do to not shove his hand in between the sliding doors and stop the elevator before it goes, but he knows he’s still so keyed up all they’d do is hash out the same argument again. So he sighs and heads for the bar and slides into a booth in the corner.

He orders vodka, a rarity for him despite his heritage. But he needs it tonight, needs to be drunk with devastating efficiency and immediate effect, and when the waitress brings back another, it’s down before she can turn away from the table.

He can feel the burn of it slide down his arms, warming his chest, his stomach. He can practically see the jumbled mess of his brain slow down into a mild murmur, repeating one phrase like a refrain, hammering against his heart and trying to lodge there like a thorn.

_“I’m sorry, Victor, but I can’t.”_

_I can’t_

_I can’t_

He stares out into the garden, the rain dripping from a branch to land in a puddle under the window, hypnotizing him with its rhythm. Yuuri says he can’t marry him, said he’s not sure Victor meant it. Of course he meant it, he means everything he does. Everything he’s said.  When hasn’t he ever meant it?

_When you teased him about getting married after he won gold, you idiot._

Victor picks up his glass and tilts the liquid around.

_“The word marriage was never said.” “Then I’ll have to remedy that.”_

Which he did, right? He did. He said that he wanted Yuuri to marry him, that he loves him. He takes another drink, puts his glass on the table where it tips over with a clink, a dribble of vodka pooling across the tabletop. The waitress looks concerned as she mops up and tries to convince him some water might be a better idea.

_I’m sorry, Victor, but I can’t. I can’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’t—_

“What can I do?” He whispers, and can feel the tears welling in his eyes. His beautiful Yuuri, slipping through his fingers like smoke.

He puts his head down on the table and closes his eyes.

…………………………………………………………………..

When next he’s aware, he wakes up with his head on a pillow. He’s still a bit drunk, but as he acclimates to the dim light he realizes he’s in bed. Somehow he got back to their room. He’s undressed, mostly, boxers intact. How did this happen? The bed is otherwise empty, Yuuri’s side not even mussed. Victor feels his heart in his throat until he sees Yuuri’s jacket and suitcase are still in the corner. Oh, thank God.

He turns onto his back and stares at the ceiling, studies the shadows there. His head feels full of a thousand angry wasps, just waiting for him to brush up against the events of the previous night to set them all into swarm. He breathes deep, holds for a count of three, and breathes out, and prays for just a moment of clarity and calm. It seems to help, his heart starting to slow enough he can think. He quietly climbs out of bed and walks out into the living area of the suite.

The French doors are open, the cool breeze from the ocean chilling the room and raising gooseflesh across his skin. The moon is high, flooding through the windows and setting Yuuri’s silver medal on the table glittering like a beacon. Victor leans over and traces the cold metal with his finger. Beautiful and luminous, is silver. Cool and calm, like a placid sea. It absorbs and reflects the colors it’s shown, changeable and shifting like the moon.

There’s movement outside and Victor glances up to see Yuuri through the doors. He’s not noticed Victor yet, he’s simply shifted as he’s sitting in a chair, wrapped in a fluffy white robe with his knees drawn up to his chest and arms clasped over them. He settles again with a sigh. The moonlight glances off of his hair, gilding his entire profile in cool, pale silver light, deepening the shadows of his eyes and lending an otherworldy grace to the curve of his lips.

His solnychia, his kitten, his mercurial, emotional, heartstrong, headstrong Yuuri. He’s kind, and graceful, and so giving he was willing to destroy his own life, his own future hopes, for Victor’s. He wants Victor to succeed more than he does himself. Wants to make sure Victor is free to be happy more than he wants happiness for himself. Reflecting other people’s joy for them, giving freely until there’s nothing left to give. Was allowing Victor to map out their entire future without thought of his own.

He’s never been truly selfish. He’s never demanded, never wanted anything of his own at the expense of others, even as he competed at the highest levels, until Victor came into his life. And now he doesn’t know how to accept the love Victor is pouring into him.

To believe that Victor wants to give, and give, and give until there’s nothing left.

Victor will show him. Will spend all the time he has in this world not giving him _things_ , but giving _himself_ . Not talking _to_ him about their future, but talking _with_ him.

Victor steps through the doors on to the freezing balcony. Wisps of clouds dim the moonlight for a moment before they clear, the light growing stronger again. Yuuri looks up at him, face blotchy and red from where he’s been crying.

“Come to bed, it’s miserable without you.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me.”

Victor’s heart clenches at how small he sounds. “Always, my love. Always.”The moonlight glints off of his ring, the gold turned pale in the night. In a sudden revelation, the words come easy to his tongue. “Come to bed, Мой серебряный свет.”

Yuuri looks uncertain for a moment, but unfolds himself and allows Victor to lace their hands together and lead him to bed, pull him under the covers and curl around him with Yuuri’s back tucked to Victor’s front. Yuuri holds tightly to his hand and shakes as the tears fall. Victor swallows heavily and tries to search for the right words.

“I’ve been thoughtless, Yuuri,” Victor starts. “I only thought of myself, of what I could do to show you what our lives could be together, to sweep you off your feet. But I didn’t listen well. You’ve been telling me all week, all the last month. You give so much, my Yuuri. But you need me to give, as well. Not hotels and cars and vacations and grand declarations, but of myself. My love, and my time, and my attention.”

Yuuri sniffs. “I’m just…I can’t believe it’s _me_ you want, after all. That you’d flake out on Nationals for me, that you’d tie yourself to whatever disaster I’ve made of myself this time. You can have anything, have anyone. You’re going back to skating. I guess I don’t see how I fit in that picture in the sort of...forever kind of way. We never talked about what happens next.”

“You’re right, we haven’t. I had this grand idea of all of that, but never bothered to ask you what you wanted past…well. Past me, really, and skating. We didn’t discuss any of it. I was too impatient, I see that now. I should have been more careful, and talked to you. I’m so incredibly sorry.”

Yuuri turns over and snuggles into Victor’s chest. “I’m sorry, too,” he whispers. “I know it hurt you, that I didn’t believe you were sincere. I should have known better. You’ve tried to tell me how important this week is to you all along, and I just…I didn’t really internalize that, I think.”

“We can talk more tomorrow. Let’s sleep now, eh? Rest. Things will seem clearer in the morning.”

Yuuri nods through a yawn. “Yeah, okay. Tomorrow.”

Victor just breathes, the chill of the night still lingering in Yuuri’s hair. They lie wrapped in each other’s arms until Yuuri falls asleep, his breathing slow and even against Victor’s chest.

His beautiful Yuuri. They’ll talk over room service breakfast tomorrow. A restart for both of them. A new day. There are still three days left, and they’ll make the most of them, mapping out what they want their lives to be.

Yuuri sniffs and settles closer, and tucks a cold hand under Victor’s side. Victor swallows down a yelp and can only grin. God, how he loves him. Every part, every graceful, ridiculous, anxiety ridden part of him. His darling one.

His серебряный свет.

His silverlight.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But that’s what love is, isn’t it? Victor muses, as he navigates through the various ferry lanes that run almost nonstop between the islands. The acceptance of another’s flaws and foibles? He looks over at Yuuri quietly taking in the landscape, his chin on his hand and eyebrows drawn together. Victor needs to remember the same for himself, remember that all of Yuuri’s anxieties don’t just extend to skating, but to almost every part of him, turning the most vicious parts of his psyche against himself. He’s had to find his way around Yuuri’s skating anxiety for months now.
> 
> Victor realizes that he accepts this part in the rest of their lives as well, will willingly stand as a bulwark between Yuuri and his own mind. Has strength to give, to fill the well that Yuuri drains dry on a regular basis. If, that is, Yuuri will let him.
> 
> Time to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a grateful heart to Max, Lit-Yoi, for excellent beta services. Thank you! 
> 
> A story like this needs an epilogue of sorts, I think. Then we're done. Thank you so much for reading.

A sharp trill wakes him, a piercing ring that shatters his skull and sends Victor scrambling for his phone where it sits on the bedside table before it wakes Yuuri up. He punches the button without bothering to look at the name and flops over, arm dangling off the side of the bed. 

God, he’s paying hard for last night. At least he doesn’t feel like throwing up, but his head is pounding. It’s late morning, now, and it seems the clouds have cleared based on the stream of sunlight peeking through the bedroom curtains. This bodes well for his original plan for today. 

He carefully maneuvers his head around to look at Yuuri, still crashed out, face buried in the pillow and hair flopping into his eyes. He’s curled in on himself, hands tucked up under his cheek, knees drawn up almost to his elbows. He looks defensive and vulnerable, even in sleep, and it makes Victor’s heart lurch to see it. He wonders if he can convince Yuuri to go along with him today, to trust him to use his plan to their advantage for the discussion Victor can feel sitting in the pit of his stomach. 

Victor reaches out and touches his fingertips to the apple of Yuuri’s cheek.  Yuuri’s eyes flutter open,  a bit hazy at first but soft, unworried. “G’morning,” he mumbles. “Glad to see you.”

Victor swallows. “And I you, серебряный свет,” Victor says, trying out the moniker he came up with last night in the bright light of the morning.  He smiles with how easily it flows from his tongue. “Are you feeling okay?”

Yuuri considers a moment. “Better, yes.” He pauses again, eyes flicking away from Victor’s face. “ I … I still feel terrible that I hurt you. I wish I could make it up somehow.”

“There’s no need.” Victor brushes Yuuri’s hair back from his forehead and looks him deep in the eyes, taking in Yuuri’s concern, his love, his soft and beautiful face. What had Victor ever done to deserve him? What now, when he still wants nothing more than to promise him forever, but hasn’t quite earned the right to ask it in return?

Yuuri leans up on one elbow. “What are you thinking about?” he asks quietly.

“I’m just incredibly happy to be here with you,” Victor says. “And I want to make it up to you, too. I want us to talk all of this out, to find our way together. If that’s still okay. ”

Yuuri smiles softly. “I’d like that.”

“Then let’s get cleaned up and dressed. I have an idea.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Oh my god.   _ Oh my god _ .” 

Victor cringes. “Too much?” Dammit, he knew he should have rethought this, but it seemed like a good way to eliminate any and all distractions for the day. Besides, he’d have lost the deposit if he’d cancelled. 

Yuuri runs a hand down the sleek silver side of the speedboat Victor has chartered and can’t seem to close his mouth. “You said that we needed to talk. You said  _ no more stuff _ !” He turns to point an accusing finger at Victor. “ _ You can’t even drive this thing _ !”

Victor rubs the back of his neck. “Yes, well, it’s not mine. I just chartered it. And look, it’s stocked for the day. Just the two of us, alone on the water.  Together. And I told you, I can drive it. I’ve been able to pilot a boat since I was a teenager.”

Yuuri puts his face in his hands, and Victor panics and thinks that maybe he should have just cancelled the entire thing and sat in bed all day, but it’s gorgeous out, the sun ablaze on the water and the wind has settled into a light breeze that brings the warmth of the Mediterranean inland. He just wants them to be alone, and this seems like a better option than the hotel. He shifts from foot to foot, pulling his bottom lip with his teeth, until Yuuri just shakes his head and looks up at him with a wry smile.

“I don’t know what I expected. I want you to be yourself, and, well.” Yuuri chuckles. “Could be worse, I guess. You could have a foot fetish or something.”

Victor almost sags with relief. “Who says I don’t,” he says, and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Oh my god.”

“You keep saying that. Come on, Yuuri. Let’s get on board. It’s got a bathroom and a bedroom, by the way. And we’ll be warm enough in the cabin until we drop anchor, then we can sit out on the sun deck in front.”

Yuuri clambers on board and looks around, face alight with curiosity, until Victor gestures him into the bridge next to the pilot seat. He starts the engine, gets it going, and the rumble makes the entire frame of the boat shiver under them with restrained power. Yuuri sits down quickly but grins, excited, and bounces slightly in his seat. 

“What should I do?” he asks.

“Nothing. I have to cast off, so just stay there and I’ll be right back.” Victor bustles around and pulls up the ropes, coiling them on the deck, before ducking back into the center and up the small staircase into the bridge. He slowly reverses the engines and drifts out into the marina, then idles his way out and into the bay. The mountains and hills of Athens, the islands that make up the chain of Greece, rise golden in the morning sun.  

Yuuri, despite his initial skepticism, relaxes after they leave the marina, seemingly convinced that Victor does, indeed, know what he’s doing.  He leans back against the white leather seat with a serene smile on his face, and Victor has to settle himself against the urge to step over and kiss him. He’s so beautiful , the sun slanting across his face and shoulders, and even the stress of the previous night hasn’t diminished the soft allure of his cheek, or the exquisite dark fan of his eyelashes. 

“I thought I’d take us north,” Victor says, trimming the engines for a moment before pushing up the throttle. He needs to focus. The boat leaps forward and begins to gather momentum.

Yuuri cracks his eyes open. “And then?”

“We anchor.”

“And?”

“We eat a champagne brunch from the galley on the sun lounge, and we talk.”

Yuuri opens his eyes fully and smiles, a heartstopping flash of teeth and crinkled nose that tears its way into Victor’s chest and wraps itself around his heart.  Victor realizes that whatever else he’s been thinking about their future, Yuuri has decided this morning he was going to trust Victor whole-heartedly to fulfill his promise to talk, no matter what crazy schemes Victor has concocted to get them there. 

But that’s what love is, isn’t it? Victor muses, as he navigates through the various ferry lanes that run almost nonstop between the islands. The acceptance of another’s flaws and foibles? He looks over at Yuuri quietly taking in the landscape, his chin on his hand and eyebrows drawn together. Victor needs to remember the same for himself, remember that all of Yuuri’s anxieties don’t just extend to skating, but to almost every part of him, turning the most vicious parts of his psyche against himself. He’s had to find his way around Yuuri’s skating anxiety for months now. 

Victor realizes that he accepts this part in the rest of their lives as well, will willingly stand as a bulwark between Yuuri and his own mind. Has strength to give, to fill the well that Yuuri drains dry on a regular basis. If, that is, Yuuri will let him.

Time to find out.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

They drop anchor off of the tip of a sandy spit of land reaching out from the island of Salamina, tucked well out of the way of the ferry lanes and nowhere near the houses that reach out to the beach further along the island’s shore.  Victor guides Yuuri down into the tiny galley to load a tray up with fruits and bread and cheeses and champagne, and brings it all up onto the front, where a large white sun lounge has been built into the deck of the boat.  They settle side by side, arranging the tray between them. The breeze ruffles Yuuri’s dark hair, leaving it scattered across his forehead.

“This is amazing, Vitya,” Yuuri says, running a finger along the edge of his untouched plate. “Thank you.”  He smiles, but doesn’t say anything further. He looks like he’s waiting for Victor to start. 

Victor can feel nerves buzzing in his stomach, to the point he can’t contemplate actually eating. Neither can Yuuri, it seems. He takes a sip of champagne to quell the flutter. Best to take a deep breath and throw himself into it. Like his first triple axel – at some point you have to harness your courage and jump. 

“I’m not really sure where we should start,” Victor says, then looks at Yuuri hopefully. “Do you have any ideas?”

And just like his triple axel, he crashes into the ice on his first try. Victor mentally slaps his forehead.

Yuuri flushes and swallows heavily. “I have no idea. I’m new at all of this. I just — I mean, what did you expect would happen when we left here Saturday? Where were you going? Where was I going?”

Oh. “Well, I thought we were both going back to Hasetsu. Makka is there, as is all of my…everything.”

“And yet Russian Nationals is in two weeks.”

“I’ve got a costume I could wear, I’ve got the framework of a routine. I’ve just not finished it. Maybe Yakov can give me feedback via email. Or on Skype.”

Yuuri blows his bangs out of his face. “Through  _ Skype _ ? Are you  _ serious _ ? Victor, you’re a champion! You can’t train like that. You’re not really thinking this through clearly.” 

Victor feels a small twitch of annoyance. “And you are? ‘Let’s end this,’ you said. What were  _ you _ going to do, then? Just let me go back to Russia without you?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says. “I absolutely was. To let you go back to your career without worrying about mine.”

Victor drops his head back and stares at the sky. This is exactly what they were arguing about last night. The exact same reasons, the exact same positions. Something needs to shift in this conversation or it’s never going to go anywhere. 

“Okay, then. Let’s think about this. What do you  _ want  _ to happen?”

“I—“

“Don’t think about it. Just say it.”

“I want to be with you,” Yuuri says, voice trembling. “I don’t want to leave you. I want to keep going. I want to win.”

Victor can feel his eyes well up in relief. “I don’t want to leave you, either, Yuuri. Five world championships, remember?”

Yuuri sniffs into his sleeve. “Yeah,” he says, and smiles. “So, if we don’t want to leave each other, how do we work this out? You’ve got to train, and so do I. I need you, and you need Yakov.”

Victor pauses. He can’t ask Yuuri to marry him again, not yet, but he can do this. He reaches across and picks up Yuuri’s hands, holds them to his chest.

“I need  _ you _ , Yuuri. Come with me to St. Petersburg,” he says. “Live with me there. Train with me. We’ll drive Yurachka absolutely mad.”

Yuuri chokes out a laugh. “You’re…serious.”

“Absolutely.” That proposal wasn’t a joke, Victor thinks, the night still bitter on his tongue, but this, oh this is something he can offer that’s not quite so intimidating, something that might not feed Yuuri’s fears quite so fully.

Yuuri stares at his hands where they’re pressed against Victor’s racing heart. “And then what, after Nationals?” 

“Worlds. Four Continents. Off season in Hasetsu. Grand Prix. Olympics. Again. And again. And again, until I need one of those little kids’ training frames to get off the ice. Or you do. Or Yurachka carries us out. And then we’ll take over for Yakov when he retires so we can keep harassing Yura. We’ll argue over laundry. I’ll get you that disgusting eel thing you like for takeout and complain about it every time. We’ll  _ live _ , Yuuri. Together.”

“You…you would give me that?” Yuuri’s hands are trembling against Victor’s chest, so he pulls him over to straddle his lap, leaving them chest to chest. Yuuri’s big brown eyes fill his vision, tears sparkling in the corners. Victor leans forward and kisses the tip of Yuuri’s nose, his cheek. Wraps his arms around Yuuri’s back and holds him close against his heart. 

“That, and so much more.”  

Yuuri pulls back and cradles his face in both hands. Looks him deep in the eyes and smiles through his tears. “Then yes. Yes, that’s what I want, too. ”

Victor’s heart swoops in his chest and he can feel his eyes spill over as he kisses Yuuri fully, carefully, joyfully, as the soft winter sun warms their cheeks and dries their tears.

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“Do you actually have a kitchen?” Yuuri asks, and pops another grape into his mouth. Victor rolls his eyes and pulls Yuuri closer, saps some of his body heat. They’d been talking for a few hours, and the winter sun was starting to set, bringing a chill to the air and casting cool blue shadows across the bow of the boat, the sun blocked by the bridge above.

“Of course I do. It functions, even. A refrigerator and everything. Imagine the possibilities!” He sweeps his hand in a grand, sarcastic arc across the sky. A kitchen, for the love of God.

Yuuri flicks him in the ear. “Well, I had no idea! Maybe it’s a … what are those... a studio! Maybe you only have a hotplate or something!” 

“Trust me, Yuuri, there’s more than enough space for both of us and Makka. Though she’ll fight you for the other end of the sofa.”

“I’m going to lose, aren’t I,” Yuuri says flatly.

Victor laughs and kisses the top of Yuuri’s head where he’s snuggled down between Victor’s knees, back against his chest and covered with a blanket from the galley below. “You probably will, at least for a while. She’ll guilt you with those big brown eyes. You won’t be able to resist.”

“Mmmm. Well, I can’t resist you, either. How will I resist her? She’s cuter.” 

Victor can see the little smirk on Yuuri’s lips before he leans down and nips Yuuri’s ear, making him squeak. “Hey, I happen to think I’m very cute.”

Yuuri runs his hands up Victor’s thighs, until his thumbs press on the inside seam of Victor’s jeans. “Oh, cute isn’t the word for it.”

Victor’s cock is suddenly very, very interested in this conversation. “It’s not?” 

Yuuri flips over and positions himself over Victor’s lap, hands braced on either side of Victor’s hips and leaning so close they’re almost nose-to-nose. “No,” he whispers, his lips barely brushing against Victor’s. “Cute is  _ definitely _ not the word for it.”

Victor swallows. “Care to share what it is, then?” he says, and oh how he loves this, feeling his stomach swoop and shiver at the anticipation of touch. He’d missed Yuuri yesterday, felt the break in their connection physically and emotionally, and now that they seem to be back on the same page again, Victor wants to take full advantage of the privacy their situation offers. “No one will hear you out here, my серебряный свет. You can tell me.”

“I’m counting on it,” Yuuri says, eyes darkening and the mood shifts from playful to something moe intense, more sensual, in a moment. “You’re so sexy, my Vitya,” Yuuri rasps against his mouth, and levers his knees on either side of Victor’s thighs so he can slot his hips against Victor’s own. The pressure of Yuuri’s groin against his makes Victor gasp. He’s hard, or nearly so, and Victor clamps his hands down on Yuuri’s thighs in reaction to hearing the word  _ sexy _ drip from Yuuri Katsuki’s perfect mouth.

The breeze chooses that moment to edge under the blanket and lift it off, sending it sliding over to the edge of the deck. Victor snatches at it before it goes over the side, and wraps his other arm around Yuuri’s waist. 

“We should probably take this inside,” he says, and leans forward to nip at Yuuri’s neck.  Yuuri arches under his touch, leaning his head back to show off that clean, long line of throat above his collar. Victor pulls him in again and traces his tongue up the long tendon in Yuuri’s neck. “Come on, my love. Let’s go down below.”

Yuuri nods and shakily climbs off, hardly able find his sea legs to stumble back across the rolling deck, through the center staircase, and back into the galley. Victor follows, dumps the blanket over a chair, and finds Yuuri climbing into the large bed built into the bow of the boat, accessible only by a small door.

The ceiling is low, and Victor flips on one of the small sets of rope lights installed along the edge of the bed. It’s almost cheesy, the lighting, as if the bed itself is illuminated, but the warm glow highlights Yuuri’s beautiful skin. He turns back to help Victor fold himself into the small space, and laughs.

“It might be a bit of a struggle to move around in here,” Yuuri says, as Victor pulls his legs in. “Though at least I can sit up without hitting my head.” 

Victor leans forward and pushes Yuuri onto his back and slides on top of him. He can feel Yuuri’s breathing pick up as they press together, his body covering Yuuri’s completely, fully. He uses a foot to nudge Yuuri’s legs apart until he can settle into the cradle of his hips again, and is almost caught off guard when Yuuri hooks a leg around Victor’s hip. 

“Beautiful,” Victor whispers, and Yuuri’s eyes are hot, liquid, full of passion and promise. His tongue darts out and licks his bottom lip. Victor catches his mouth in a kiss, licking deep and drowning in the sweet taste of his tongue. Before long he can feel Yuuri rocking his hips into him and he responds in kind, their bodies shifting and pushing against each other until Victor pulls away just enough to get a hand on Yuuri’s belt.

“This is still okay, yes?” he asks, because he needs reassurance that yes, this is still how Yuuri wants him, still how he feels. 

Yuuri drags Victor’s mouth back to kiss him, hard. “Get your damn clothes off, Nikiforov,” he says, and that tone of voice, that rough command he used when he demanded Victor never take his eyes off of him, that the performance had already started, and despite the high blush on Yuuri’s cheeks that belies the nerves behind his assertiveness, Victor can’t help but scramble to climb off of him and start working on his jeans. He moves so fast he knocks his head against the ceiling. 

“Look what you’re doing to me, Yuuri,” he says, and rubs his head under Yuuri’s amused gaze. “I’m helpless before you.”

Yuuri snorts. “Not even remotely,” he says, as he starts pulling off his own clothes, an efficient striptease that has Victor staring as the smooth skin of his shoulders slides into view. He has his jeans and briefs halfway down his legs before Victor remembers he needs to catch up. They kick their clothes to the side of the bed and Victor rolls back on top of him, both of them gasping at the heat of skin on skin.

“I love you,” Victor says, dips to press a kiss to the hollow between Yuuri’s collarbones. “I can’t imagine loving you more, but I’ll try.”

Yuuri looks as if he’s going to cry again but he just pulls Victor’s in until their foreheads are touching. “I’m going to try to deserve you every day,” he says. “As my coach. As my…my lover. As my friend. Love me, Vitya, please,” he says, and rolls his hips against Victor’s. The sweet drag of their cocks against each other has Victor trembling already, something in the air between them even more charged than it was every time before.  He tucks his head into Yuuri’s neck and pulls Yuuri’s leg back over his hip.

“How?” he says, and presses a kiss under Yuuri’s ear. “Like this?”

Yuuri’s gasp is gratifying, the first syllable of Victor’s name said on a shuddering exhale. “I want you inside me, I want to feel you with me, Victor. I need it, please.”

Victor groans, wraps both arms under Yuuri’s shoulders and holds him close. “That’s…ah. Yes, God yes, but have you ever?”

Yuuri glances away. “No.”

“Then I don’t know if…”

“I do use the internet. I know what’s involved. I’m ready for you.”

Victor’s mind goes into vaporlock for a moment. “When you say ready, you mean—

“I prepared, yes. I’ve been doing so every day, just in case. We just…um.” Yuuri waves his hand a bit, flustered. “We hadn’t quite gotten there.”

Victor takes a deep breath to steady himself.  This is...this is a lot of trust, even more than they’d shared before. It’s an act of faith, on Yuuri’s part, that Victor will take care of him and leave him happy and satisfied with this first experience. So he kisses Yuuri sweetly, slowly, sucking lightly on his bottom lip as he trails a hand down his chest, to his stomach, to gently cradle his cock and stroke it. Yuuri throws his head back on the pillow and moans, the sound amplified by the tiny room.

“Did you bring anything with you?” Victor asks, as he swipes his thumb across the tip of Yuuri’s cock.

Yuuri nods. “Jacket pocket.”

Victor rummages around in Yuuri’s jacket and pulls out a couple of condoms and a few sachets of lube. My, he had prepared.  So Victor takes him apart gently, carefully, listening intently to every moan, gasp, and whisper that tells him that yes, this is good, this is right, this is what he wants. Victor carefully works at him, loosens his body with patient massage and sweet words, ignoring the insistent throb of his own neglected erection until Yuuri finally pries his eyes open and pierces Victor straight through the heart with his gaze, lust drunk and full of passion, affection apparent in the soft tilt of his smile. “Can you try, now, please? I…I think I’m ready.”

Victor hesitates. 

“No, please don’t worry.” Yuuri leans up and kisses right above the bridge of his nose. “I want you, Vitya. Please. I’ll tell you to stop if I need to.”

“Okay,” Victor says, and blows out a quick breath as Yuuri settles back down on the bed, knees spread, ass glistening with lube in the low lights of the cabin. He’s flushed and relaxed and wanton, sure of himself in the intimacy of the tiny space, and Victor tosses away any last concerns he might have and rolls on a condom, strokes himself a few times under Yuuri’s heated gaze.

“Next time I want you in my mouth,” Yuuri says, and Victor groans. This man was going to be the death of him, one way or another. 

“How am I supposed to focus on you when you say things like that?”

Yuuri chuckles. “Because it’s not all about me, Vitya. I want to make you feel good, too.”

“That isn’t going to be a problem,” Victor says, and settles between Yuuri’s thighs until his cock presses lightly against Yuuri’s hole. “You’re going to feel perfect, I can tell,” he whispers into Yuuri’s hair. “Let me in, my love. Breathe, and bear down a little.”

Yuuri does. Victor presses forward, watching Yuuri’s face carefully for any signs of discomfort or a hint that he might want him to stop. When Yuuri sucks in a surprised breath he holds completely still.

“Too much?” 

“No, no, just. More than I thought. I’m okay, please more.”

Victor holds himself under tight control as he slips further into the heat of Yuuri’s body, until he finally is fully seated, his hips fully pressed against the backs of Yuuri’s thighs.  Yuuri’s eyes are closed and Victor just breathes and presses kisses to the inside of Yuuri’s knees.  Yuuri snaps a hand out to wrap around Victor’s forearm. Victor sucks in a breath.

“Oh god, Yuuri. You feel amazing. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he hisses. “I need…oh god, I need…please, Vitya, fuck me, please.”

Victor feels a full body spark at the epithet on Yuuri’s tongue, his control starting to fall apart as he pushes his hips forward in a careful, slow thrust. Yuuri’s groans and pants and high, keening moans as Victor starts to roll his hips in earnest ignite the flame, and Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders and buries his face in his throat as his orgasm begins to coalesce in his body, tendrils of pleasure that wrap around his heart and squeeze.

“Close, love, so close,” he pants, and Yuuri just nods. His knuckles bump against  Victor’s stomach as he pulls at himself, and Victor watches as his eyes squeeze shut before he opens his mouth on a long, low moan and comes, messy and warm, between them.  

“Beautiful, серебряный свет, just beautiful, yes,” Victor gasps. He’s so close, Yuuri’s orgasm ratcheting his arousal up until he’s balanced on a shimmering peak of awareness: Yuuri’s body tight around him, the silk of his calves where they’re hooked over Victor’s arms, his huffs of pleasure as Victor fucks him. His breath catches in his throat as he tips over the edge, almost dizzy as he shudders his way through his own orgasm and collapses against Yuuri’s chest, Yuuri’s fingers carding through his hair.

Victor slowly pulls out and rolls to his side. He’s got to deal with the condom, clean them up and hope they didn’t ruin the bed too much. But he’s too content to move, so he just pulls off the condom and ties it up before wrapping it in a tissue and leaving it. For now he curls up against Yuuri’s chest, feeling oddly vulnerable and needy. Yuuri must sense it, because he gathers Victor in his arms and rhythmically skims his fingers over Victor’s back in soft, soothing patterns that feel like skating figures.  

“What was it you were calling me, earlier?” Yuuri murmurs. “It didn’t sound familiar.”

Victor nuzzles into his chest. He wonders what Yuuri will think of his new nickname. “Cеребряный свет? That?”

“Yes.”

“Silverlight,” Victor says. “For your beauty. Your strength. Your light. For you.”

Yuuri tilts his head a little bit. “Not gold, though. I thought you’d like that better.”

Victor picks his head up to look Yuuri fully in the face. “It’s not all about that. Your silver is as hard fought for and earned as any gold. What it means to come back, to fight for what you want. To be yourself, and in doing be so much to so many people. You may earn gold yet, Yuuri. But  _ this _ silver,  _ this  _ triumph, is what I will always remember.”

Yuuri’s concerned frown melts away as he smiles, a molasses-slow thing that breaks across his face fully when Victor smiles back. 

Yuuri’s starting to believe, and it makes Victor’s heart soar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bedroom on the boat: http://www.hellas-yachting.com/images/powerboats/crewed_yacht_charter_greece_motor_yacht_pegasus10.jpg
> 
> I didn't have a good space for a picture, but it's sort of like this. The bedroom isn't in the boat I chose, though. I couldn't find any interior pictures of that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Victor laughs and hugs him, wraps the open sides of his jacket around Yuuri’s slim frame. Just having Yuuri in his arms calms him, makes him forget the grueling work of this past year to come back to form, forget all his own bumbling missteps and arguments and inadequacies as he and Yuuri learned to live with each other in their own space, to work alongside each other as equals as well as coach and student. It wasn’t easy, but the feel of Yuuri’s heartbeat against his chest makes everything worth it._   
>  _And a year later, he’s more sure than ever of what he wants to say._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who took a chance on a new YOI writers fic, back last summer when I started this, and I hope you all enjoyed Silverlight. I loved writing it, and I realized that honestly, I only had one tiny thing left to do before it was complete, and I think I did what I needed to.

The cold December wind whips Victor’s hair into disarray as he leans over the railing of their balcony; the sea a solid, roaring presence in his ears and matching the thrum of his heart. Yuuri seems just as taken by the sight, a slight smile playing about his lips as he closes his eyes and breathes deep.

They’ve returned to Theoxenia Palace after the Grand Prix finals yet again, this time with gold gracing Yuuri’s neck and Victor coming in an astonishing third – third, his first bronze in over five years, and it thrills him – and ready for a rest. The remnants of a simple supper out on the balcony clutter the table behind him, and Victor sighs, content.

“The view is just as beautiful as it was last year,” Yuuri says, and turns to Victor and shoves his hands inside Victor’s jacket. “A bit colder this time, though.”

Victor laughs and hugs him, wraps the open sides of his jacket around Yuuri’s slim frame. Just having Yuuri in his arms calms him, makes him forget the grueling work of this past year to come back to form, forget all his own bumbling missteps and arguments and inadequacies as he and Yuuri learned to live with each other in their own space, to work alongside each other as equals as well as coach and student. It wasn’t easy, but the feel of Yuuri’s heartbeat against his chest makes everything worth it.

And a year later, he’s more sure than ever of what he wants to say.

Victor looks out toward the darkness of the waters off of Athens, and smiles. The view is much darker here than the hilltop he once nearly sacrificed their relationship on, the sea deep and fathomless and stretching on without end toward the horizon, and Victor thinks it could swallow any words he might throw into it.

“My Yuuri,” he starts, and pulls away slightly so he can see Yuuri’s face. Yuuri looks up at him, a question in his eyes. “My beautiful Cеребряный свет. I can’t tell you how happy the last year has made me. Just being here with you, again, reminds me.”

“Me too. I’m glad we decided to come back. I feel…it feels nostalgic, sort of.”  Yuuri presses a kiss to the underside of Victor’s jaw, and Victor shudders. “And reminds me of so many, many things we did in that bed.”

 _Focus, Victor_ he tells himself, as Yuuri’s wandering hands creep up under the edge of his shirt.  “Oh, ah, Yuuri, god, your touch is maddening – can we talk a minute first?”

Yuuri stops immediately and pulls back. “Of course. Is anything wrong?” Yuuri’s forehead wrinkles with concern.

Victor cups his cheek and gently strokes the velvety skin with a thumb. “No. Not at all. I just wanted to talk to you about one thing.” Yuuri‘s eyelashes flutter  before his eyes start to widen, and Victor realizes he’s catching on very fast, now. “Last year you told me you thought I’d asked you to marry me because I was desperate to end an argument.  That I wasn’t really ready for the commitment I was trying to make. But this year, I am. I really am, Yuuri. This year has been everything I ever wanted. I love you so much. I adore you. Please, say you’ll marry me. Will you?” Victor realizes he needs to just stop talking so he snaps his jaw shut and tries to keep himself from panicking. His heart is racing and he thinks he could easily hyperventilate if he doesn’t keep holding his breath waiting for Yuuri to respond.

Yuuri doesn’t speak, but dives back into Victor’s embrace and kisses him, a kiss as firm and clear of an answer as Victor could have ever hoped for, but he still wants the words. They break apart, breathless, foreheads touching and hands cupping each other’s jaw.

“I take it that’s a yes?” Victor asks.

Yuuri gasps out a half-chuckle, half snort. “Of course it’s a yes! It wouldn’t be anything but a yes. I won gold, Nikiforov, and if you hadn’t asked me tonight I’d have asked _you._ ”

Victor swoops down and picks Yuuri up, bridal style, and carries him laughing into the bedroom and kicks the door shut. It’s dark and Victor smiles at the ray of light that crests Yuuri’s hair as he closes the curtains, moonlight slipping over his shoulder and cascading across his chest.

He may have won gold, but he’ll always be Victor’s Cеребряный свет.

His Silverlight.


End file.
